In Dreams
by Celebwen Telcontar
Summary: A modern day Troy cast doesn't know of their lives yet, but they will! AB, HA, and PH coming up! They're remembering their lives in their dreams. Review! Please! Rating for language and adult concepts.
1. Briseis and Paris

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, this is new! It's a Troy fic, and it's got the people of the movie having been reincarnated in the present day. None of them are related, and they all have interesting dreams to prove that they are who they are. This has the dreams of two of the more principal characters in this story. Paris and Helen are already married, but nothing came of it for she wasn't already married when Paris met her.**_

_**Balrog: Uhhh… Okay. I guess. This is new… I would think you would center on a Briseis/Achilles fic, knowing how you like Achilles' character!**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog… shut up!**_

_**Balrog: Can you pass me the pegmatite crumbles?**_

* * *

_She screamed in pain and loss, her fisted knuckles meeting his nose in a spectacular shower of blood. He distinctly heard a wet _crunch_, and felt agony rip through his face. Then, she hit him again, and he felt his bloody broken mess of a nose give like a fine silk pillow. He screamed in his pain, and saw her pull back for another strike, screaming his faults and her loss and emotional agony as she did so. Her fist caught his unprotected eye, and his head rocked back with the force of the blow; he felt it crack on the wall and a gluey mess of liquid seeped its way down his neck and into his shirt._

"_You jerk! You heartless son of a bitch! Damn you, you… you son of a cur! Go and fuck yourself, you son of a son of a bitch!" were some of her obscene remarks; the ones that he could understand through the roaring in his ears, the pain in his face, and her sobs. She struck his clear eye, his cheekbones, then, with a mighty swing, cracked a rib. She gave him a hearty kick between the legs, and he fell to his already bruised and broken face. She ran off, weeping, and slowly blackness overcame his ability to see in the wan torchlight. Then, everything turned a bland shade of grey, and he was standing before a river, a boatman shaking his head in good humor. His cousin's lover was already in the boat, two gold pieces clutched in his fist from his Greek companions._

He sat up in his bed, startling his wife.

"What is it, dearest?" she asked. He felt around his face and ribs for the cracked rib and shattered nose not to mention both black eyes his cousin had so expertly delivered.

"Ouch…" he whimpered slightly. His nose was whole and straight, his eyes were free of bruises, and his head was fine. His ribs felt like they did every morning, and he was fine in any other way. The alarm clock beeped shrilly, and he slapped it off in a bad humor. "Just a dream, Belle," he replied.

"Are you sure, Houston?"

"Positive. If it had been anything else, I'd have a bruised and broken face, a cracked open head, a cracked rib, and a nice bruise to my package."

"I hope that doesn't happen, Houston!" she cried.

"So do I. I apparently killed the lover of a cousin, and paid for it by her beating me to death, literally."

"Oh, dear. Well, it's best not to dwell on the dreams, and you need to get ready to go to Mary's house."

"Oh, great! The class reunion!" He bolted from bed and began to get ready for the day.

* * *

"_No… Please, don't leave me!" she whispered against his chest. She felt his strong arms around her shoulders, and he held her close, unmindful of the arrows that had driven him to his knees. _

"_Briseis, we have to go or we'll die here!"_

"_Achilles…" she gasped. He was sweating with the pain, and his body convulsed against hers. _

"_Go…" he whispered. He gave her a short, passionate kiss, filled with all the love he felt for her. She kissed him right back, as much as she could, telling him with that kiss that she would never forget him. _

_Paris took her by the arm and guided her into the tunnel. She never saw her lover's body hit the ground. _

_When the truth caught up to her, nota halfhour later, she drove her fist into Paris' nose. Her dress was splattered with his blood, but she didn't care. She struck him again, and knew by the soft texture of his nose that it was broken. Paris screamed in pain and she angled the next shot to his eye. She felt a crack when she punched him, and his head swung back with the momentum of her shot. She heard a sickening wet crack, like an unfired clay pot, still slightly moist, shattering on stone. His head left a bloody stain on the wall, and she pulled back and struck his other eye. She didn't know what she was saying, or screaming, rather. All she felt was the immense void where love and caring, warmth and joy should be. Achilles was dead. She could feel it. She punched Paris in the ribs, and felt a rib give and snap. She aimed a quick kick between his knees, and he fell to his face, groaning. _

_She ran, sobbing, into broad daylight. In front of her were Helen and Andromache, both having their backs to her. She closed her eyes and took a knife from her dress. _

"_Achilles… My love, I'm coming…" she whispered, driving the knife into her heart._

She woke with a gasp, tears streaking down her cheeks. The empty void was no longer there, as if it had never been. The broken tie had never been made, so it could never be broken. Her right hand, which as she knew should be a bloody and messy piece of meat feeling like someone took a meat tenderizer to it, was clean and painless.

"A dream… oh, God, it was a dream…" she whispered, getting ready to find her dress and drive to church before the clergy arrived and was shocked to find their priest missing.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Don't throw things at me!(Ducks and avoids flying tomatoes)**_

_**Balrog: If they threw them, you deserved it.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog,**_

_**Balrog: Yes, Celebwen?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Shut the bloody hell up! I'll see you next time, folks. Please review! Or my self esteem dies, and I never post!**_


	2. Odysseus

_**Celebwen Telcontar: This is my update!**_

General Leonardo Albert tossed and turned in his bed. He heard that his friend, Admiral David Shepherd, was having strange dreams, and he knew that the dreams were coming to him too.

_The bow was supple and willing to bend in his hands, the string strong. He bent the bow without trouble, and knocked an arrow to the string. He felt strong as he drew the arrow back to his ear, and sighted through the axe rings. As he let fly, he recognized the young man, Antinous, sitting near the axes. He was one of Penelope's suitors. He knew that the next arrow would also fly true, and it did, striking the young man through the throat. Wine and blood mixed on the floor as he let fly more arrows into the suitors. Telemachus came with swords and shields, and when the arrows were spent, he tossed one to Odysseus. With a downward sweep, he decapitated a suitor, and ran another through. Someone had been helping the suitors, for now they had weapons and shields as well. Odysseus' sword clanged on a suitor's shield and Telemachus yelled a battle cry. He saw Eumaeus and Philoetius, two faithful servants._

_In a few moments it was over, the suitors dead, and father and son breathing heavily. The returned hero ran out the door, his son close on his heels. _

"_Several of the women gave themselves to the suitors," Telemachus called. Odysseus stopped for their names, then called the said women of his household out to the courtyard, where he stood with naked sword. He made them all kneel before them, and then began to hew their necks for giving themselves to the suitors. Finally he found the traitor who had given the suitors weapons, the goatherd, and had him hanged for the act._

Leonardo woke with a sweaty brow. Had he really killed all those men and women! The thought was horrifying! He fell back onto his pillow and stared at the digital clock until he fell back to sleep. Another dream followed on the heels of the previous one.

_The sea was wild as the young man jumped from boat to shore. Odysseus, not young anymore, couldn't repel the younger man's sword. _

"_You will die to Telegonus of Ithaca!" the young man cried. Odysseus tried to tell him that he was _at_ Ithaca, but couldn't get any sound out. He fell to the ground, Telegonus' sword having pierced his liver._

Leonardo woke again with a yell this time, startling his wife. He heard his son screaming from the nursery at his yell, and breathing heavily, wiped the sweat from his brow with a trembling hand.

"What is it, dear?" Patience asked. She put one hand on his shoulder, and drew him down onto the bed, him still shaking. "Nightmares from the newest war?"

"No. An old war… I dreamed I was Odysseus of the Iliad and Odyssey!"

"Goodness! Well, you most certainly are not, Leo. I'm going to look in on Thomas." She got out of bed and walked to the nursery where the screaming child was comforted. Leonardo slowly calmed down, went into the bathroom, and threw some water on his face, trying to wake himself up as the alarm rang. He then fished for his towels, took a quick shower, dressed in his uniform, and went to the boot camp where he would see more of the insolent newcomers. The thought wasn't a good one.

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, here's an update. I hope it wasn't too bad. Odysseus this time. Next update will be H/A!**_

**_Balrog: I'm getting board already. I'm going to sleep. Maybe I'll take that offer from Antinus, and sleep on _his_ bed. _**

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Taking an old man's bed away, even if the old man was King Agamemnon's father, is just wrong. Go sleep on Ararat, or someplace else.**_

_**Balrog: Ugh. You're right. Good night. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: See you viewers next time. I hope you'll review, it's just hitting the little periwinkle button down there that says "go" and writing your comments! Please review, it's my livelihood!**_


	3. Achilles and Hector

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Okay, here's the new one. Someone wanted something with Achilles, and another wanted a Hector vignette. Here they are.**_

_**Balrog: Okay. Well, do you need me here, or can I go back to the forge where **_

_**Alanna's lightning is waiting to be repaired?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Alanna? The Lioness? This is Troy, not Tamora Pierce!**_

_**Balrog: Uhhh… Sorry.

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**_

_She was beautiful. With her dark brown hair and honey-brown eyes, she looked like an angel. But he couldn't focus on her beauty now. She was tied up and needed to be released. "What's your name?" he asked. She didn't answer him. "Surely even the priests of Apollo have names!" he said. Her silence was beginning to try his nerves._

"_You killed Apollo's priests!"_

"_I kill many in five countries. But never a priest." He removed his armor, rinsed off the sweat and blood from his face, and tied a cloth about his waist. He grabbed a knife and cut her bonds._

"_Briseis," she whispered._

Admiral Shepherd awoke to a woman shifting beside him, the other woman moaning in her sleep and cuddling closer to him. Neither woman were of the same amazing beauty of the woman in his dreams. Who was she? Her name was Briseis, but that was all he knew, beside the fact that she looked like a Tolkien elf in her grace and beauty. Like Arwen Undómiel, or Lúthien Tinúviel. Such beauty was unattainable lest one be an immortal like the Elves or like angels. He decided to think of the mysterious beauty in the morning, when his head didn't hurt so much from a hangover and physical exertion, and fell back into a sleep.

_The buildings were all engulfed in flames, the fire licking every one of them like the tongues of a demented lover. He sprinted through the streets, screaming: "Briseis, Briseis!" and finally stumbled to a halt by the palace shrine. There she was. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Now that he saw her closer, his subconscious mind saw that she was even more beautiful now than she had been before, if that was possible. Her robe was unblemished white and cerulean, her ivory skin glowed against the seashell necklace he had given her as a token of his love. _

_He enfolded her in his arms, hers went about his neck. _

_Suddenly, he felt a searing pain behind his right heel. The pain drove him to his knees. Briseis was screaming, but the roaring in his ears prevented him from understanding what she said. _

"_You must leave. Troy is burning," he said quietly. An arrow hit his shoulder, followed by three others: two in his chest and one in his stomach. He saw Briseis' cousin, Paris, yank her up and run out of the city with her. Then, everything went a bland shade of grey, and he fell sideways, the grey brightening to a blinding white light._

Admiral Shepherd bolted awake, the two women coming awake with him.

"What is it, Davy dear?" one of them asked. He brushed her off and slipped from bed to have a shower and start the day. He knew the woman with Tinúviel's beauty would stay on his mind for the entire day now, if not longer.

"Tinúviel, Tinúviel!" he muttered, saying one of Aragorn's lines in the Lord of the Rings. He began to sing the Lay of Beren and Lúthien to keep time as he found his Seals uniform and got dressed.

* * *

_His name was being howled from beyond the walls. His extremities were cold, now that he knew he couldn't survive such a confrontation. He would loose, he was sure of that. He gulped and opened the door. _

_Achilles was out there, furious and impossible to read. His eyes were like two pieces of blue flame; his hair was wild and as bright as the sunlight. Now was the time for the battle to begin. He felt the sword crash against the Greek's, and the shock reverberated up his arm. A blow fell to his shield, smiting it in half. He blocked with his sword, terror making his movements blocky and clumsy. He tried again, and his arm went numb with the shock of the hero's strength. His eyes were dead and unreadable; cold and heartless. They told him everything he needed to know about this confrontation. He would not survive this. He couldn't. _

_Suddenly, his terror, his fear, his pain in his arm, it was all moved to the backseat of his mind as something, probably Achilles' sword, was thrust through his chest. Fire blossomed from the wound, and he needed to get the intrusive material out of his chest. Then, it was out, but he was growing cold. He fell to the ground, and all went grey then white. _

_He stood outside of his now dead body as Achilles lashed his ankles to the chariot and drove off. _

Oh, no,_ he thought absently. In this out-of-body state, he couldn't think coherently, nor could he feel anything. He knew that he would be stuck here forever. In this limbo land as a ghost._

_Darkness fell, but he could care less. He couldn't even move his spirit, and it felt strange. When he tried to walk, he sank right through the sand. He tried to imagine floating, but nothing happened. Then there was a gust of wind, and he felt like his spirit was going to fly to the ends of time. He cried out, and flailed with his limbs, or at least thought he did. He couldn't feel anything. _

Oh, no! No, no, no! _he tried to say. Nothing happened. He saw his father leaving the city. _No, Father, don't! He'll kill you!_ he struggled to scream. He tried to follow his father, but the wind had other ideas. The last thing he saw was his father talking with Achilles. Then, he passed beyond the walls of Troy, and into the city proper. _

_He saw Astyanax and Andromache, weeping silently. Then, he saw Helen, looking distraught, and Paris as if someone had hit him in the back of his head with a board. The city was weeping, all for him. _

_Finally, he saw his father and Briseis come back, his cousin wearing a new shell necklace and having a vacant look in her eyes. A time later, he saw smoke rising. Warmth enveloped his spirit, and spread outward. Then, he was on the banks of a river, two coins in his hands. He handed them to Charon, and the boatman ferried him across the river, where he met up with the boy he killed._

"_I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you were Achilles."_

"_I'm his cousin, Patroclus. I forgive you. It was a stupid thing to do. I'm sorry I got you down here too." _

Henry bolted awake, and stared at the far wall. What a dream! What a weird dream! He saw that there was nothing for it but to leave it alone, and grabbed for his flannel button down shirt, comfortable jeans, boots, and hat, then see the new horse someone wanted him to "fix". There was nothing wrong with any of the horses he worked with, but he fixed the human's attitudes more than the horses.

"Henry Ilias. Horse Whisperer. God. My life should be made into a Robert Redford movie," he grumbled as he headed for the shower.

* * *

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Well, how was that?**_

**_Balrog: What a weird thing to happen to his spirit. _**

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I got the idea from "Journey of the Watcher" by Rosalinde. It's in the Earth's Children section. **_

**_Balrog: Oh. I see. Well, don't let me stop you from updating. And why make Achilles a Tolkien fan?_**

**_Celebwen Telcontar: Well, I'm one, and I wanted at least _one_ character to have that same obsession as I do. Hey, I know all of Tolkien's songs by heart, and I can recite the first chapter of the Hobbit from memory!_**

**_Balrog: By Illuvitar! I'm going to bed. Alright you lazy louts! It's time you reviewed! _**

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog! Stop that! It's frightening the guests. But anyways, please review. I'll see you later.**_


	4. Agamemnon and Cassandra

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Okay, no one panic during this chapter. It does get a little frightening in the dreams, but no one major is going to die. At least not by the melting down nuclear reactors and blowing up volcano.**_

_**Balrog: Oh, dear. End of the world. Where's the big five mile long asteroid?**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Build yourself a bunker in Antarctica. The story's going to the volcanoes and nuclear reactors.**_

_**Balrog: Oh, I always loved the stories of Three Mile Island. What a pity it didn't blow up. That would be spectacular.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Oh, help. I have a balrog on my hands that is like Eris in his ways of thinking. Someone get me a new disclaimer partner!**_

_**Balrog: Oh, by the way, nothing here belongs to you. Yellowstone belongs to Gaia, the nuclear reactors belong to… the governments, I belong to Tolkien, Agamemnon and Cassandra belong to Homer, or history, or both—**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: We get the point. Do you want me to stuff you in Old Faithful when the volcano blows?

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**_

* * *

_She was beautiful, but that beauty could be put to other things. He picked up a lock of her hair. _

"_Your little romance nearly cost me this war. You're going to be my slave in Mycenae. A Trojan priestess scrubbing my floors… And at night…?" He let the question hang in the air as he groped for her breasts. Suddenly, he felt an intrusive material in his neck. He gurgled in pain, and felt himself growing cold. _

_He saw Charon, the Boatman, who looked at him with a skeletal grin. His hands were empty of coins, and he showed the empty palms to Charon, who gave an evil cackle, shaking his head. The lank hair shuddered on the skeletal face, the laugh deep throated and evil. _

"_No, no! You'll find the pauper's entrance, Agamemnon King! A Pauper's entrance to Hades' land and the eternal torture of the Tartarus. I wonder what punishment Hades has in store for _you_, hunh? The boulder up the hill has already been taken, as has the eternity in the river with the fruit trees overhead while you can neither eat nor drink. Ah, well. What a pity. Maybe I'll send you somewhere else…?" the Boatman taunted. He cackled his bone-chilling laugh as Agamemnon wandered off to find the paupers entrance to Hades' realm. _

Aaron bolted awake. "Oh, dear…" he muttered.

"What is it, Aaron?" his girlfriend, Winifred, asked. "Don't tell me the Market is going down again!"

"I hope not! The Dow's high is 1398!"

"True. What does Danielle think about the Market?"

"She thinks that Cassandra Tory is crazy. Tory's the one who writes all those articles on the cataclysmic events happening. Like the crazy one where every nuclear reactor is going to become a Three Mile Island redo? And Yellowstone National Park is going to blow up?"

"Not to mention the one she spoke to me, saying that you'll kill your own daughter. What a loon she is!"

"No kidding. Well, nothing for it but to go back to sleep." Aaron did just that, but his dreams were anything but peaceful.

_He saw the people in the room go white, and then begin to panic. Someone ran into the room. _

"_It just dropped 98!" he cried. The people began to panic even more. A woman fainted. _

"_Oh, God save us!" someone cried. "The Stock Market is crashing! Far worse than the 1929 crash!" Aaron went white. All his money, the Market was crashing. Another Black Monday. Only this one was Sunday. Maybe it would be referred to as Black Sunday in the future. He felt giddy with panic. It was odd things that went through your brain at a time like this. A woman with lank grey hair, tight skin over prominent bones, a grey sack like dress, and an enigmatic golden apple appeared out of no where, cackling uncontrollably. _

"_Oh, what fun!" she laughed. "What absolute revelry!"_

"_Fun? Revelry? Are you crazy?" Aaron asked. What a crazy woman! She was even crazier than Cassandra Tory! _

"_Ha, ha! What a jest! Oh, Ares, come and see this!" A man with dark hair and skin appeared out of no where, like the woman had. Only the man wore bright armor, probably bronze, had a brush on his helmet, and carried a spear and shield. His face and arms were seamed with old scars, and he was undoubtedly the most handsome and dangerous looking man Aaron had ever seen. _

"_Oh, Eris, this is nothing compared to what is happening on a global scale!" the man laughed. His laugh seemed cruel and cold. The woman clutched her apple, and looked expectantly at her friend. Aaron felt himself go cold with dread. If a massive stock market nosedive like this would cause the woman to be gleeful, what could possibly be better?_

"_What is it, Ares? What is it?" she asked. The man gestured, and four women, as gaunt and ugly, if not more so, than the first appeared. _

"_Pain, Panic, Famine, Oblivion. You'll all get your chances in time. The nuclear reactors of power plants these silly mortals have set up will melt down. Then, the cancer, warfare over uncontaminated food supplies, and the rush for uncontaminated land will give us everything we need!" Ares crowed. Aaron felt like someone had just dunked him in a wintry Canadian lake. The woman named Eris laughed, as did the other four._

"_And next step is Yellowstone Caldera!" Eris cried. Aaron fainted._

Aaron sat up, sweating and panicked.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God!" he whimpered. He was afraid to turn on the television because of what it might tell him of the stock market. Winifred took his shoulders into her hands and began to massage away his aches. His mind was a mass of mayhem right now, and he needed to get someplace where he could dunk his head in cold water or get hopelessly drunk to forget about the terrifying nightmare.

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**_

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A.N: I made this entire story up. PLEASE DO NOT PANIC! NO nuclear reactors are going to melt down in my knowledge, and the stock market is FINE! Please do not panic! I needed to have some form of crisis, and this was the best I could find. Yes, Yellowstone National Park is a giant volcano, but it won't erupt in our lifetimes! STAY WHERE YOU ARE, AND DO NOT PANIC! This is all in the insane mind of one mad writer! Please do not panic, or I'll be forced not to write again! PLEASE!

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_**

_She knew this was going to happen. The War was going to come if Paris was returned to the royal family, and if he voyaged to Sparta. She tried to warn them, but they would not listen. They never did. Not since she had cheated Apollo had she ever been believed in anything. Not in that lifetime, nor in this one. Yet the gift of prophecy still rang true. She would still try to stop the oncoming cataclysm, try to warn the people, but they would just turn deaf ears on her. She saw the oncoming ships, and knew that they had ten years. Then, death would come with a scythe and a vengeance, and every man woman and child in Troy would be dead. She prayed, like she always did, not to Apollo, but to his twin, Artemis. She might be able to help. Maybe. She knew the Gods were real; as real as the veins in her hands. She also knew that she had to get someplace in the Southern hemisphere and far from any nuclear reactors if she was to survive this new crisis. _

_Panicking would solve nothing, she knew. She had to get away. Her and her family. She couldn't possibly warn the entire global population, it was just too big and no one would believe her anyways. A tear escaped her eyes. Where would she go? Even if she went to Antarctica, the volcanic dust cloud would find her. Light would be gone, the entire ecosystem would break down, and all large life forms, including the majority of humans, would be killed. What a time to think of global warming, when the world was going to be blown up anyways with the nuclear reactors melting down and the Yellowstone Caldera going to be blown up in a monumental eruption. _

"Oh help. Not again," Cassandra said. She wrote down the dream in her journal, to publish the finer points of later in the Tabloid magazine she ran. No one believed her, but she couldn't be found at fault for trying.

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_**

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Celebwen Telcontar: I hope everyone is staying in their seats and not taking the apocalyptic story at face value. It's a story, nothing more. Like I said in the A.N., none of it is real. Save the fact that Yellowstone is a volcano, but not to erupt in the near future. Thank you for your time, and I hope I didn't give you nightmares.**_

_**Balrog: (Whimpers, hiding under table that is now in flames due to his fiery nature.)**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Balrog, don't be a dunce. Come on out and have a nice gneiss sundae. **_

_**Balrog: (Shakes head, still whimpering )**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Please review. And if you say that this is completely unrealistic, I'll just say that it's not meant to be realistic. It's meant to be a story, nothing more. Don't panic, just be calm.**_


	5. Andromache

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Here's a chapter dealing with Andromache. I don't own anything save the plot, Hellfire/Darkness, Barley, and James.

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Andrea stared at the massive animal, his hooves the size of dinner plates.

"How am I supposed to control this animal!" she cried, trying to approach it with a halter. The stallion tossed his mane at her advances, and broke into a rapid canter about her, snorting.

"He'll be fine, Andrea!" her brother chastised, making crooning noises towards the horse. The Frisian stallion reared and lashed out with his fore hooves, one of them catching James on the shoulder. He went down with a sickening crack, and he went white. The horse neighed and pranced about, oblivious to James on the ground. Andrea ran over to her brother.

"James!" she cried. She felt his shoulder then his neck. When she touched the region of the collarbone, he winced and cried out. "I think your collarbone is broken, little brother," she said.

"Get… Darkness… Halter… Whisperer… Henry Ilias…" he grunted from between clenched teeth. Andrea ran for the tack shed, grabbing a rope and a lariat. It was now up to her.

She threw a saddle on one of the calmer mares, a Clydesdale by the name of Barley. The mare whickered in confusion, as she had only been to pull carriages.

"Come on, Barley. Let's go," she said, flinging herself in the saddle. Or trying to, anyways. She pulled herself onto the massive mare's back, counting on the horse's size to protect her from the wild Darkness. She gripped a bridle, slid from the large horse's back, and put the show bridle on the placid mare, which was as easy as Darkness was temperamental. Then, Andrea pulled herself back onto the mare's back, and the horse cantered out at her bidding. "Easy, Barley. Now, jump girl!" The mare took the fence at a gallop, and hurtled the fence with a bulky launch, stumbling as she landed. Darkness whinnied his shock. Andrea loosened one of the lariats, swung several times, and cast. She only looped a tree's branch.

Her cell phone rang, and she plucked it from her jacket pocket. "Andrea Gail," she said.

_"Miss Gail? This is Henry Ilias, horse whisperer."_ Andrea's vision swam. Memories raced before her, confusing her beyond thought. She remembered Astyanax, Hector, Paris, Helen, and Briseis… All of them. She nearly fell from Barley's saddle, and knew herself now to be Andromache.

"Oh my Gods… Hector you're alive! Oh, Gods! Oh, thank the Gods!" she cried, not knowing what she was saying. "I have an uncontrollable horse, and since you're a Horse Tamer—"

_"A what?"_

"A Horse Tamer. The best tamer in Greece," she said. "Hector, this horse is diabolical, even Poseidon couldn't control this beast!"

_"What did you call me?"_ he asked, sounding completely confused.

"Hector. Son of Priam. Father of our son, Astyanax. Brother to Paris, who started that whole messy war."

* * *

Henry stared at the phone. Who was this woman? He had a son with her? Who was she! She must be a nutcase. He followed the directions James Gail had given him, and ended up at a place where there was a wild Frisian running. James Gail was lying on the ground outside the paddock, and the woman in the Clydesdale's saddle was speaking rapidly into her phone, crying hard. She turned in the saddle, and dropped the phone, tumbling from the back of the mare, and ran straight for him. She vaulted the fence, crying happily, and embraced him. Her kiss was hard and passionate, built of desperation and joy.

Henry forced himself from the madwoman.

"Who are you!" he snarled.

"Andromache! Don't you remember? Your wife! We have a son, Astyanax! Hector, Achilles killed you after Paris dragged Helen home and the Greeks came to get her back!"

"Who killed me because of some city and a blind a deaf woman? And what about Greece? This makes no sense!"

"Hector! Hector, why don't you remember?" the woman sobbed. She seemed to go into a mental breakdown, weeping unashamedly. "This is far worse than before. Do you enjoy tormenting me, Apollo!" she cried, throwing her arms wide. Henry was glad to see James staring at this madwoman like he had never seen her.

"What! Andrea… Andrea Britannia Gail! What are you talking about!" James rasped, barely able to make the words out.

"Who are you? You must be Andrea's brother. I'm Andromache of Troy."

"Androwhat of Trowhere?"

"Do you not remember, Hector?" Andromache asked, saddened by the news. Her face fell, and she looked devastated. She went over to the Clydesdale and began to sob in the mare's mane. Henry looked at her. She seriously needed to have her head checked. It was almost like those previous lives things some people went through, like one of the dreams he had. But this was far worse. It showed that the woman Andromache he had dreamed about was real. Unless this was some elaborate hoax.

"Listen, Andromache, if that's your name, I'll take you to a neural center."

"I'm not crazy, Hector! I remember! You, dying before the walls of Troy! Our son, Astyanax, your brother, Paris! Your cousin, sweet Briseis, the priestess! Achilles, the monster who killed you then took your body around the walls of Troy!"

"You never were very interested in the Iliad before, Andrea," James managed.

"The Iliwhat!" Henry cried, getting more confused by the second. He decided to do something he could actually control, and grabbed the halter, walking softly after the mad animal. Darkness whinnied, and pranced off. He locked eyes with the stallion, which neighed and pranced closer. The wildness in his eyes fell away with startling speed, and he walked closer. He nipped Henry's hair, and then nuzzled his chest.

"Hellfire!" Andromache cried. She laughed, but Henry turned away, looked at both horse and woman, then vaulted the fence and ran for his truck and drove away.

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_**Celebwen Telcontar: So, how was that? **_

**_Balrog: Uhhh… I guess. Review, you people!_**

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Indeed. Please do, my friends! To clear some things up, Andromache remembered her past life by hearing Hector's voice. Darkness was Hector's old war horse, and remembered his master. I will be updating soon! I hope.**_


	6. AchillesBriseis & Patroclus

_**Celebwen Telcontar: Here we are. Another chapter. Balrog, stop trying to eat the table!**_

_**Balrog: It's schist! I like schist! It tastes like gneiss, but not like gneiss! **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: You, Balrog, are crazy.**_

_**Balrog: I know, I know. No need to flatter me.

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**_

Brianna walked down the aisle, hearing the bells behind her and swinging the incense lamp. Gregory McPherson was getting inducted today as the newest Archbishop of the Denver region. She closed her eyes momentarily as she listened to the choir belting out their songs. Then, to one side, she saw a man. He was wearing a tuxedo, and had golden hair, his eyes like small pieces of blue flame. His face was tanned and weather-beaten; his mouth lined and hard. All in all, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen, but he also looked incredibly familiar. Habit caused her to continue to walk forward, her eyes locked onto his. She continued to swing the incense, chanting in Latin, and heard the bells continue.

Brianna didn't remember anything about the ceremony, aside from the warrior's eyes boring into hers. Who was he? She knew him from somewhere, she was certain. At the end of McPherson becoming the Archbishop, she all but ran to rip off her vestments and meet the warrior.

"Hello. I don't believe we've met. I'm Admiral David Shepherd from the Navy Seals," Mystery Man said, holding out a hand. She smiled as memories hit her.

"I'm Bris…Brianna, Achilles," she said quietly, clasping his hand.

"Briseis. It's been too long," he whispered, scooping her in his arms. Hers went around his neck and he lightly kissed her cheek. "Let me take you home," he said.

"I'd like that," she replied as he led her to his car, the congregation looking at them as if they were from Mars.

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_

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__They were leaving tomorrow. He wouldn't get to see war unless he went now. Sweating, he reached for his cousin's armor, buckled it on, and picked up the shield. It felt heavy, and nearly slipped from his sweaty grasp. Now he was sure Achilles would make him a Myrmidon! He reached for the sword, and slipped it into the sheath in the back of the armor. He felt awkward and bumbling, but he was sure that would pass. He stalked out and began running as the Greeks screamed. He led the Myrmidons through the camp, hearing them scream. _

_He engaged a warrior in combat, and realized his mistake. The man was faster, more experienced. He clumsily blocked and the shield fell from his numbed arm. He blocked with the sword, and felt a searing pain across his throat. _

_What was happening? He felt as if he had swallowed a live coal. He fell to the ground, and the Greeks and Trojans gave way. He saw the dumbfounded look on the warrior's face as he pulled off the helmet. Rage and disbelief clouded Eudorus' eyes. Odysseus looked sad and defeated. The warrior simply looked shocked. He reached for a spear, and Patroclus felt a searing pain just below his sternum. Then all faded to grey and white. _

_He stood on the sands, looking down at his body. He should go… if he could. Was such a thing possible? He tried, but wound up sinking in the sand. He saw his body dragged back, saw Achilles face as he struck Eudorus, and then his lover. He didn't realize one man could go so insane in one instant. Then, he saw a pyre being built, and he saw his body being placed on it. He saw it go up in flames, and then warmth was spreading from his body, and he felt as if he was going to fall to the center of the Earth. _

_He was standing by a river, and handed two coins to a man in a boat._

Patrick jolted awake, sending his pet ferret scrambling for cover.

"What in all _hell_ was all that about?" he asked rhetorically, seeing his roommate sit up slowly.

"Hey man, you 'kay? You look like paraffin, man!"

"I'll be fine, Dan. It's just a bad dream."

"Hey, man! My sista, she's got the Dreams too. Whatdayah use? 'Shrooms? What kind?"

"Oh, great. No, Dan. I don't use mushrooms. These dreams come of their own accord."

"Alright, man. If you're sure. Talk 'bout em. My sista talks bout her all th'time. An' she's not crazy. Cass is fine!"

"Right. I'll believe you. Your sister is one of the sanest people I know," he said to keep the crazy hippie drug-addict he had as a roommate from waking up the whole dorm again. It was common knowledge that Daniel Hastings believed himself to be one of the youngest of six children, born into royalty, but in fact was an only child of a crazy homeless mother.

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_**Celebwen Telcontar: What did you think of that one?**_

_**Balrog: Patroclus, plus a side of Briseis/Achilles. How nice.**_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: I'm glad you liked it.**_

_**Balrog: The mushiness was making me choke. **_

_**Celebwen Telcontar: No, that was the schist you ate. Please review people, please!**_


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